#the ship ones ill post in uh five minutes

[letitrainathousandflames]

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3.9 K

Character: CC-2224 | Cody, CC-5052 | Bly, Aayla Secura (mentioned)

Warnings: Major Character Death

Additional Tags: angst, drinking, suicide, grief, order 66 aftermath, major character death, post traumatic stress disorder - ptsd, canon divergence

-

Section Nine, Paragraph Twelve of the Clone Army’s Code of Conduct:

Should a unit, hereby referred to as “Clone”, suffer malfunction and self-destruct, their superior officer, preferably their Commander, must carry out cleanup of the remains and have your medic issue the following report:

“Clone trooper [insert number identification] has suffered a sudden illness and the medical team onsite was unable to resurrect him. The Clone Trooper’s time of death was [appropriate designation of time and date of the occurrence]”

Mental malfunctions are a non-standard deviancy from the norm, as all clones are design to withstand any amount of stress. Therefore, the body of a clone deceased in such manner must be immediately removed from the scene and shipped back to Kamino for further analysis of its anomalies.

Cody wakes up at what he is certain to be three, maybe four in the morning, which means he has only two or one more hour to sleep before he has to wake up, cranky and exhausted, only to then force his equally cranky and exhausted men to get up themselves as well.

Something feels weird. A buzz in the back of his brain. General Kenobi had once mentioned that, while not all beings could wield the Force like Jedi and Sith did, it did surround every living creature, even those as unusual as clones.

He would often say, too, that the creeping shiver Cody would feel up his spine whenever they set foot in a dangerous place could very well be a manifestation of the Force itself. A warning that reached the very core of his being.

Cody finds himself in the mess hall minutes later, dressed only in his blacks and boots, too tired to care for the proper use of uniform attire even though he was the Marshall commander and should lead by example. His commlink is still in his pocket, just in case any kind of emergency pops up. It’s not like anyone would be awake at this time anyway, not after that endless campaign in Cato Nemodia from which the 2224 had finally returned.

He realizes he’s wrong when he sets foot in the mess, only to see captain Rex sitting at one of the tables with a steaming cup between his hands. Rex is as careless as Cody himself, dressed in his Blacks and boots, his cropped blond hair a couple of inches longer than the Captain would usually keep it.

“Codes.” It’s murmured at him with a nod, and Cody takes a moment to fill his own cup before sitting in front of Rex “Sleepless?”

Cody nods, taking in Rex’s features. He looks positively shitty, bags under his eyes, five ‘o’clock  shadow darkening his features and a gaze that said Rex was more sleep than awake at the moment.

Cody is pleased that he hadn’t seen a mirror in a long while, because he can’t be really sure he’s looking any better than that. Odds are that he’s looking even worse. He nods instead of answering, and Rex sighs.

“Heard you got captured. Are you alright, brother?”

A quick memory flashes through Cody’s head. The crack of a whip, screamed threats. Two of his fingers being pulled too far back until a nauseating crack came, followed by Cody’s own ragged yelling.

“Had worse.” He shrugs, downing a big gulp of too-bitter caf “General Kenobi got to me before they could quite get started.”

A troubled look passes through Rex’s expression, a slight tremor of his right cheek. Cody had seen the scars on Rex’s back in the showers, and he was honestly relieved that the men who captured him had only a bantha leather whip. Whatever those Zyguerrians had used on Rex had cut him almost all the way down to muscle tissue.

“Want me to fill in on anything for you tomorrow?” Rex offers, looking down to his cup “My general will be busy with, uh... some security detail duty for a senator so I’m mostly free.”

Cody shakes his head, drinking another sip with a grimace.

“Nah, I’m good. Life goes on, vod’ika.”

That was the last conversation he had with Rex before he got shipped away along with Commander Tano.

Before Order Sixty-Six happened.

-

Cody sits on that very same chair, looking at the empty space where Rex had been sitting on that very night one year ago. So much had changed since then. The Republic, now the Empire. The Chancellor, now his Emperor. His targets, now the men that had once been the generals leading his army.

It’s a sleepless night once more, this time due to the recurring dreams of his first – presumably dead – Jedi target. Obi-Wan Kenobi, falling from an incredible height, crashing into the waters below, disappearing in its depths…

Why does he keep thinking about it? He’s starting to look like-

Cody’s commlink rings, and he picks up the call.

“CC-2224…” he starts, trailing off once he recognizes one of his brothers’ voice; one that would often call him with questions they were never meant to ask themselves, or anyone else “Ah, it’s you.”

“Hey Cod- CC-2224.” Says CC-5052, sounding just as tired as the time demands one to be “Can you do me a favor? I won’t be able to take the men to that incursion on Dantooine.”

“I can’t keep covering for you, CC-5052. Get your act together for once. I don’t need more slacking clones now, with all this talking of phasing us out of active duty. Nothing’s stopping the brass from just kicking us all out in the street and replace us with those volunteers, and we need to show that we are still as useful as we were back in the clone wars.”

There is a pause, so long that Cody wonders if 5052 is still on the line. Then…

“Cody…” another drawn out pause “Don’t you ever think that what we did was…?“

“Silence!” Cody hisses, face tightening in anger “Kriff, 5052, how many times do I have to tell you not to talk about your- your deviant thoughts over the comms?! Just- Just hang up, get to your bunk, go to sleep…”

“I’m not at the base.” The drawl on the clone’s voice is much clearer to Cody now. he isn’t sleepy, he is drunk “I’m not coming back.”

Cody is aboard a transport headed to the location pinged from the other clone’s commlink within minutes, knowing that the missed sleeping hours are gonna be sorely missed at the meeting later that day.

He walks into the cheap hotel, places a hand on the grip of the blaster on his holster to get the flustered desk worker to let him in without a warning, climbs the creaky stairs and tests the old mechanical lock on the door, noticing it is unlocked.

He can hear the voice of a woman inside the room. His hand goes to his blaster, unfastening his holster. He slowly pushes the door open as its hinges whine in protest, and then he realizes that the voice isn’t clear enough to be a person’s. It is a recording.

“fifty-two?” he calls out, stepping in the room “Don’t waste my time, I have a meeting in three hours and I should be asleep.”

His eyes quickly assess the small room, his gaze being drawn to the small holoprojector placed on top of the desk in front of the opposite wall where an armored clone sits. The desk is pretty much covered in over a dozen bottles of different cheap alcoholic drinks, some of them tipped on their side, almost all of them either empty or half-empty. The shards of a bottle that must have rolled over are littered by the left side of the desk.

The old blinds are drawn on the window at the end of the room, shrouding the place in darkness. The only sources of light are the semitransparent blue hue of the holoprojection, and the rectangles of light cutting into the room through the broken horizontal blinds.

Cody walks further in, now recognizing the woman in the recording, a tall, blue-skinned twi’lek dressed in a brown headpiece, pants, a short top, and an open cloak. The recording seems to have been made with the camera of a trooper’s helmet, judging for the medium quality of the projection.

Cody knows the woman. She had been a Jedi General during the Clone Wars, and became a traitor to the empire near its very end. Her assigned clone battalion as successfully carried out her elimination in Felucia exactly one year ago.

“Alright, so we have Korin, Mar’eti or T’aleh. Which one do you like best?”

The twi’lek is grinning at the person filming her, and a clone’s laugh comes in response.

“Any name you pick will be good.”

The Twi’lek laughs at that, shaking her head and reaching her hands towards the camera. The image shakes, and the camera is moved until it is placed at their bodies’ height, most likely a crate, given the background that seems to be the weapons’ depot of a Venator-class Star Destroyer.

“Are you sure you’re okay, love?”

The clone, now helmetless and in view of the camera smiles brightly. His cheeks have yellow-colored tattoos and his hair is shaven close to his scalp.

“I’m still getting used to the thought that I’m going to be a father. It’s… it’s incredible.”

The twi’lek laughs again, this time nervously, her hands dropping to her stomach.

“I don’t know what we are going to do.” Her smile falters, vanishes “How are we going to raise a child in this war?”

The trooper gently cups her face in his hands, pressing a delicate kiss to her lips.

“Don’t worry about that. The war will be over before our kid arrives. We’re closing in on the Seppies, this whole mess is almost over, and our baby will grow up in a peaceful galaxy.”

There is a small beat of silence, and the twi’lek raises her arms to hug the clone, huffing out a long sigh.

“I won’t abandon my duty as a Jedi. I can’t. Even after the war is over, I will still be a Jedi. You understand that, don’t you, Bly?”

The clone pulls back just about enough to look down at the Twi’lek’s face and nod.

“I wouldn’t ask you to.”

“I might be called to aid others all the way across the galaxy, and I can’t refuse.”

“We will follow you wherever you go. Me and our ad’ika. We’ll make this work. Haven’t we made this work so far?”

“Commander?” another clone’s voice pipes up from afar, and the clone hastily grabs his helmet, placing it back on his head and cutting off the recording

“Just a moment, trooper!”

The recording stops there, and a different one starts. The background is different this time – colorful trees and leaves all around the Commander’s vision of the same commander.

“I have a bad feeling about this.” The Twi’lek says, looking around warily

Hundreds of clones seem to be lining in formations, preparing to an attack. AT-STs are being prepped and yelled orders fly through the air.

“We’ll be fine.” The Commander says, placing a gloved hand on the Jedi’s shoulder, his voice then dropping to a whisper that crackles on its way out of his vocoder “Aayla. Cyare. Please let me lead this time—”

“No.” the answer is firm, the Jedi’s eyes sharp and her posture commanding “I will lead.” Her voice then drops to the same whisper, barely audible among all the noise muddling the recording “There is no one else I’d trust to have my back, Bly. I know you’ll always keep me safe.”

“All set here, General!” An ARC Trooper yells somewhere from behind them

The Jedi places a hand on the Commander’s chest, smiling softly.

“May the force be with you.” before he can reply, she is turning around to march ahead “Alright, troopers, follow my lead!”

The commander sighs heavily.

The recording stops once more. A new recording starts, at a clearing of the same colorful woods, the commander and his men slowly trailing behind their general.

“It’s so quiet.” Bly mutters “Where have they run off to?”

Their general stops, gesturing at her men to do the same.

“Be careful. There’s something wrong here. I can feel it.”

A commlink rings, and the commander presses the blinking button on his gauntlet. A voice, raspy and all too familiar to Cody pours from the speakers over the ears of the Commander in his helmet.

“Execute Order Sixty-six.”

With trained muscle memory, the Commander raised his DC-15 rifle, the gesture echoed by the other six troopers of their assault squad as they moved in sync to form a semicircle behind the Jedi General.

“Good soldiers follow orders” he whispers almost too quietly for the recording to pick up

A large flying alien creature cawed from somewhere behind them as it crossed the gold-tinted skies, and the Jedi turned around with a startle, he eyes going wide at the sight of her men and the aim of their weapons on her.

The general attempts to raise her lightsaber despite the horrified shock taking over her features.

She doesn’t have enough time to power on the weapon on before something bright and blue flashes out of her own clone commander’s rifle, whistling through the air to strike her right between her shoulder blades at her heart’s height.

Her body is jerked forwards, her arms flying up as the second bolt hits her on the ribcage, the lightsaber slipping off her grip as a pained scream is punched out of her.

Two more bolts strike her on the back and shoulder, and Bly fires another just as she stumbles forward, her protective shirt smoldering brightly over her back as the fourth bolt hits her there.

She falls down on her chest, one hand shakily and uselessly trying to reach for her lightsaber, and the men keep firing over and over, blaster shots hitting her middle. Her arms. Her legs. Her lekku, which slowly cease all movement. They keep firing until the only movement from the fallen Jedi are the occasional twitches caused by the electricity charges from the blaster bolts.

“T-Target eliminated” the Commander says with an almost unnoticeable stutter “All of you, let’s rendezvous at the alpha location, we must assist the other troops. We can’t stop until every jedi is dead and accounted for.”

Nodding, the men turn away, leaving the ground of their massacre behind. The commander lingers for a moment, his breath catching and coming out in a stuttered, heavy exhale.

Then he leaves.

The recording loops back to the first video, where Aayla Secura is trying to get Commander Bly to choose a name for their unborn child. Cody walks closer to the desk, his gaze now looking past the blue light of the projecting and further to the man sitting at the desk.

CC-5052, known as “Bly” during the Clone Wars, watches Cody with weary eyes, the semitransparent projection floating between them from the small device placed on the table between several empty bottles of various alcoholic drinks. Cody stops in front of it, removing his helmet and placing it by a cluster of purple-tinted bottles. He, too, is fully dressed in his kit except for his gloves and helmet.

Bly’s elbow is resting on the arm of the chair, his hand supporting his chin, while his other hand rests on his lap somewhere out of Cody’s view. He gives him a drunken smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, which are reddened and swollen.

His eyelashes are wet and there are dried trails of tears down his tattooed cheeks.

“Hey there, Codes.”

 “You need to come back to base.” Cody oders dryly.

“Told you I’m not coming back. I can’t.”

The recording has reached the moment where the troops are about to move out, and Cody ignores the audio overlapping over CC-5052’s words, pretending he cannot hear the trembling that underlines his own voice.

“You are a Commando clone, CC-5052, same as myself.” Cody says the words he had been told since his infancy back at the sterile white walls of the Kaminoan laboratories in Tipoca City “We can endure anything, and we do not deviate from our duty.”

He swallows down thickly, the sound of the blaster that had killed Aayla Secura along with the life growing inside of her echoing through the speakers of the projector on top of the table.

He had heard Bly’s confession of his anguish over having killed her during the issuing of order sixty-six multiple times. He had always told Bly to keep those thoughts to himself, and to never let their superiors hear these treacherous words.

But only today he truly understands the whole picture. There was more to his relationship with the deceased Jedi than that of a duty-bound trooper and their general.

Still…

“We will not have this conversation again – the Jedi were traitors” Cody presses on “and a threat to everything we fought for. They had to die.”

Good soldiers follow orders, whispers the Bly in the recording.

“I loved her.” Says the CC-5052 in front of him, and under the faint blue glow of the projection, Cody sees the glistening of the tears brimming in his eyes, trailing down his cheeks “I- I loved her, and we were gonna-- She was—”

An ugly, anguished sound comes through CC-5052’s - Bly's - gritted teeth, and suddenly the stoic mask of numb exhaustion drops, being replaced by an expression that is so twisted in agony, it reminds Cody of those he had seen in the battlefield on the faces of men whose limbs had been torn off by landmines and no amount of anesthesia could put an end to their pain.

Bly sobs, bringing to his eyes a hand that rattles against his brow with how hard it shakes. The pained noises being punched out of the clone between every sharp intake of air begin to die out as his breathing becomes more and more ragged.

A stuttered breath hisses out of him as he drops his hand, and he raises his swollen eyes to Cody again.

“I c-can’t do this anymore.”

Cody stares at him, at the hollow eyes and broken expression in that face that is a mirror of his own, and the two sentences that keep haunting his dreams.

Thank you Cody.

Blast him!

“You have to.” Cody says, the commanding tone slipping from his voice and giving place to a plea instead “You need to.”

Because a clone commander can withstand any kind of stress.

Even the horror of carrying out orders that changed the entire galaxy and the structure of their army and robbed them of the generals that would actually put themselves in the line of fire to protect them, even though they were nothing but expendable clones.

“I have nothing left, Cody. Nothing.” it’s like the words are being pulled out of Bly like shrapnel, fresh wounds being opened with every tug “I’ve served my purpose…”

The hand he’d kept resting over his lap, out of view from Cody’s gaze because of the desk between them is raised into view, along with a blaster in its grip.

“…and I hope you can find yours, brother.”

Slowly and without a hint of hesitation, Bly brings the muzzle of the weapon to the underside of his chin. Cody’s eyes widen, icy dread pooling in his core and sending a shiver up his spine, his entire body stiffening in tension as he understands what is about to happen.

“Bly— Hey, listen to me!” he tries to think through the distinct click of the blaster being cocked; he has to stop this, has to do something, anything “Bly, put the blaster down, now--”

“Never gone, only marching away…” Bly whispers with the faintest hint of a smile

“DON’T--”

The sharp whistle of blaster fire echoes in the room as a flash of bright blue illuminates the scene for an instant, Cody’s unprotected ears ringing loudly over the thudding of his own spiking pulse.

Bly’s head whips back with the blaster’s shock, a smoldering, perfect circle letting out smoke on the wound under his chin. His hand drops, the weapon slipping from his fingers and clattering to the floor with a dull thud.

Cody stands there, breath shallow and cut off by small gasps as he tries to fight the instinct to just turn around and run away from this nightmare. His stomach clenches in nausea, and he covers his mouth with his hand.

He stares at the lifeless body of a brother with whom he had shared many battles and down times with, a man he had trusted with his life and who trusted Cody with his. A man who had been birthed from a tube like him, had blasters instead of toys since he was five like him, scientists instead of a family like him.

A good soldier who had followed every order. And that had killed him.

Cody doesn’t know how long he stands there, petrified, the recording of General Aayla Secura’s short-lived dream of having a child with the man she loved looping so many times that Cody could recite it from memory, and then looping enough for Bly’s words to dissolve into a cadence of joy, tension, and resignation, joy, tension and resignation, joy, tension and—

Cody walks carefully around the desk, standing close by Bly’s side. He is supposed to report the self-termination immediately and wait for the Kaminoan staff in Coruscant to retrieve the body. He is not supposed to interfere in any way.

Bly’s eyes stare vacantly into nothing, brown and formerly full of life, shaped exactly like Cody’s. After a small moment of hesitation Cody reaches up to close them, his gloved hand lingering for an instant on Bly’s face.

He had failed him. He had failed his brother.

He thinks of Rex, whose helmet was the only one not found in the mass grave of former 501st clones in a distant moon. Could he be out there, still alive? His own words to Crosshair in front of the memorial of the clone troopers who had died in service of the Republic - and later the Empire - come back to him.

Do you know what makes us different from battle droids? We make our own decisions. Our own choices. And we have to live with them too.

Cody moves his hand to rest over Bly’s chest, on the stillness of his heart.

“Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum, Bly, ner’vod.”

He straightens himself up, finally stopping the recording and removing the memory chip from the device, placing it in one of his belt pouches. Someone should keep Bly’s story and keep it from being forgotten.

Swallowing thickly around the lump forming in his throat, Cody picks his helmet up from the desk, placing it over his face with its expressionless mask of carved white and turning his back on the scene.

The armor would help him up until some point, and then he would do well to change out of it. The outline of a plan begins to take form in his mind. Safe locations, away from the Empire’s ever-watchful gaze. Old friends that might show mercy on him in spite of what he had become.

A hope, faint and delirious, that his former general might still be alive and willing to forgive him for what he had done.

Bly was right. Cody had to find his purpose. And he had to start now.

[atypicalacademic]

This is going to be so much work for you and I apologize in advance. 😅 There’s no pressure to do all of them!

🎼 for Nurlan, Orion, Balam, Zurkhi, Haider, and Sybilla?

🎵 for Kipling, Ozy, Khleo, and Sun Bai if you’re up for it!

🎶 for the rebel-gardener romantics, the chaos felines, and our soft sunny bois? 🥰

Here we go- (this is 1/2 apparently there's a song limit to posts?)

Nurlan

(When love casts it's shade upon you/ Don't you know that the earth turns to heaven at your feet?/ I wear that shade/ Walk there always/ Come, walk along with me)

Orion

(A dewdrop on a burning coal/ A bird caught in a wave of flight/ A drop of rain that seeks a tree to cling to/ This is all that I am before you)

Balam

(If I cannot speak my love/ It strangles me until I weep it out, anyway/ No human could bear it/ A love bigger than they could fathom/ To just sing you to sleep would be holy/ My love, do you understand?)

Zurkhi

(Is it the first drop of snow?/ Or the monsoon's first rain?/ Something has fallen upon my heart/ I am awash with it / A tenderness I have never known/ And all of it leads back to you)

Haider

(I will cradle your memory like many flames/ Lamp by little lamp/ Unwavering as my silent love/ I will burn among them until this darkness ends)

Sybilla

(Even the silent moon in the sky above me/ Has been half erased by fear/ How long till this intoxication too turns into pain?/ How much silence can a secret take until it dies?/ Will this precipice be our unbecoming?)

Kipling

(They say it is springtime/ But how I could I say so, too?/ When the fragrance lies muted/ The sceneries hesitant/ When the words are lost in my heart/ When there is a silent grief behind the veil of the air/ How then can I say that it is springtime?)

Ozy

(It looks close enough to touch/ But I have been walking for far too long/ Warm as a sweater knitted of dreams/ My world is beyond the white clouds/ And I am not the only one there/ Walking in his sleep with eyes wide open)

Khleo

(Is it dawn/ Or is it dusk/ Or is just a few scattered shards of light?/ Whatever it is/ Let it rest like honey in the flower of my days/ I would live by it/ That is all)

Sun Bai

(Is he a growing windstorm/ Does the soul behind him burn?/ Don't ask him his name/ Or his creed/ Or where he comes from/ One knows him by his pride/ And nothing more)

[writing-by-gayrainbowbridge]

Ketchup And Tabasco Chaos

Inspiration From This Gorgeous Fanart Made By murdermuffinloki:

⚠️Warning: Minor Language⚠️

Enjoy 💚💚💚

(Please Check The Pinned Post On My Tumblr Page To See If There Are More Parts To This Story)

"Pass the ketchup."

President Loki frowned deeply, glancing at Sylvie who was stirring the pot of...whatever it was they were making for dinner. President Loki hadn't been paying too much attention when Sylvie suggested they cook for Loki who was still upstairs asleep in their room.

Somehow, Loki had got some Midgardian illness and only Sylvie's assurances that Loki was going to be fine that stopped him from destroying the entire Midgardian population.

"Can I get a please?" President Loki said pleasantly, taking joy in the way Sylvie glared at him. It was no secret to any of them that President Loki desired to cause trouble at any given moment.

"I'll stick this spoon up your ass if you don't give me the ketchup in the next ten seconds," she told him, President Loki scowling at her copy of the pleasant smile he had given her a moment ago.

They both knew she would do it too.

President Loki snatched up the ketchup from the countertop with an aggravated sigh. But then a devious smirk spread across his, glancing at Sylvie who was looking back at the pot, hand held out for the ketchup. "Are you sure you want the ketchup?"

Sylvie clicked her tongue. "Yes, I'm sure. Now give it to me."

President Loki's smirk widened. "Well, if you insist..."

He popped the cap off and just as Sylvie turned to look at him with a frown on her face, he squeezed the bottle, ketchup sauce spraying everywhere. The cabinets, the floor and all over Sylvie's blond hair was covered in a coating of ketchup sauce who gasped, an outraged look taking over her face.

President Loki only smiled, tilting his head to the side. "Oops."

"That's it!" Sylvie hissed, grabbing the nearest ingredient which happened to be spicy tabasco sauce and President Loki's eyes went wide as he got a face full of Tabasco sauce.

He shouted as some got into his eye that felt like it was suddenly on fire and squeezed it shut, resisting the urge to rub it. That would only make it worse, he knew.

Sylvie grinned savagely. "I hope it never stops burning, you stuck up bastard!"

President Loki growled low in his throat but Sylvie didn't back down like Loki would have. She was very stubborn like that. "You have until the count of five to run."

Sylvie stepped closer, right up in President Loki's personal space. Despite her short height, she was still rather intimidating when she wanted to be, so much so that President Loki had to resist the urge to step back.

"Or else what?" She hissed out, deadly quiet.

President Loki glared but Sylvie glared right back and they were both sure a real fight was about to break out any second when a voice cut through the heavy silence.

"What in Asgard is going on in here?!"

President Loki and Sylvie turned their heads towards the sound of the voice in unison just as Loki walked around the corner and froze, staring wide eyed and speechless at the mess of the kitchen. He looked tired though and guilt rushed through both President Loki and Sylvie as they wondered if they'd woken Loki up from all their yelling.

"Well, um..." President Loki bit his lip, glancing at Sylvie.

Sylvie looked at President Loki, having no clue what to say. "We just, uh..."

Loki sighed, crossing his arms over his chest, giving them both disapproving looks. "Can you two please not use ketchup and tabasco as murder weapons?!"

"We just wanted to make dinner for you," Sylvie and President Loki stated at the same time, making them glance at each other again.

Loki's expression softened a little. "I appreciate the thought but it would be great if you two could stop trying to murder one another every minute."

That was fair. The pair did quite literally try to kill each other every other day.

"Well, he/she started it!" Sylvie and President Loki protested at the same, pointing at each other.

"Well, I'm finishing it!" Loki snapped before coughing hard, putting a hand over his mouth. He clearly still wasn't well enough to be up which only added onto the pair's guilt. "I'm going back to bed. Clean this mess up and when you're ready to be civil, come join me. I require cuddles and comfort but I will not deal with you two's banter."

With that, Loki turned and left the kitchen, leaving the pair to stare at the spot he had been standing.

"This is all your fault," Sylvie grumbled, waving her hand and vanishing the mess from all the surfaces of the kitchen and herself though she left President Loki to deal with his own mess himself.

"All you needed to do was say please," President Loki muttered. He was going to need a shower since he knew not how to vanish messes like Sylvie and Loki did.

"And that warrants you spraying ketchup all over me?" Sylvie gritted out.

"Don't act like a saint. You're just as bad, dousing me in tabasco sauce!" President Loki muttered.

Sylvie looked like she was going to strangle him any second now before she sighed, all the fight draining out of her body. "Why do we always have to fight?"

President Loki thought about it for a moment before shrugging. "We're different from one another. We're bound to clash. Though I suppose we could try harder to get along. I'd rather this relationship to not be ruined."

Sylvie nodded, leaning against President Loki who instinctively wrapped his arms around her. "Try harder. I can do that."

President Loki hummed softly, pressing a kiss to her now clean hair. "Let's not leave our god waiting. You know how fussy he gets when we leave him alone for long."

Sylvie had no arguments there.

Once they'd finished making up what President Loki found out to be pasta apparently, they headed up to their room (Sylvie had forgiven President Loki enough to clean the tabasco sauce off him thankfully).

They quietly slipped into the room and smiled at the sight of Loki under a large amount of blankets, very obviously curled up in a ball.

He blinked his eyes open when he heard them come in and narrowed his eyes at them suspiciously. "You two had better be done fighting."

"We've agreed to try harder to get along more often than not" President Loki promised as he sat on the bed and helped Loki sit up who whined and protested but brightened when he saw the bowls of pasta balanced in Sylvie's hands.

"Good. I'm glad," Loki muttered, taking the bowl Sylvie handed him eagerly. "Thank you for the dinner."

Sylvie kissed his cheek. "Just get better for us, okay?"

Loki nodded, putting a forkful of pasta into his mouth and closed his eyes as he hummed in pleasure.

President Loki and Sylvie smiled at each other from either side of Loki who leaned into President Loki's side.

Get along. They could do that.

No problem.

...

@murdermuffinloki Those two are going to give Loki a migraine, smh 😂

@girl-with-many-fandoms Hope you like Sylki (I know lots of people don't ship it so I'm like ???) with some President Loki thrown into the mix XD

[tagsecretsanta]

From Gumnut

to @scattergraph

I don’t own this, full credit to the author above

Title: We’ll be home for Christmas

Prologue: ‘Twas the week before Christmas

Author: Gumnut

8 Dec 2019

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: The boys can’t fly home for Christmas, so they have to find another way.

Word count: 1437 

Spoilers & warnings: language and so, so much fluff. Minor various ships, mostly background.

Timeline: Christmas Season 3, I have also kinda ignored the main storyline of Season 3. The boys needed a break, so I gave them one. Post season 3B, before Season 3C cos we haven’t seen it yet.

Author’s note: This is my 2019 TAG Secret Santa fic and it is a big one ::headdesk:: I hope you enjoy it. I know I have thoroughly enjoyed researching a gorgeous corner of this planet. 

My prompts were:

TAG Christmas pudding contest, points awarded for taste, originality and flammability.

“I don’t care if it’s Christmas…you ARE NOT bringing THAT back to the Island!”

Driving home for Christmas.

I’ll let you work out which I managed to include in this :D

Many thanks to @vegetacide and @scribbles97 for cheering me on and their wonderful support through this craziness. And to @onereyofstarlight for geeking out with me over the setting.

And as always, thank you all for creating such a fantastic fandom. Thundernerds rock! I hope you all have a wonderful festive season. Thank you all so much for everything.

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

Looking back, it really could have happened to any of them. Hell, now it had happened once, it was even more likely it could happen to any of the rest of them, but of course it had to be Virgil and, of course, it had to happen a week before Christmas.

Fortunately, not only Gordon and Alan, but also John was aboard Thunderbird Two when her pilot folded in half with a groan. The great green behemoth responded to his touch and for a second there, the whole ship tipped sideways.

Alan lost his hard-earned sandwich, and Gordon, who had been half asleep in the co-pilot’s chair, despite the coffee he had consumed not five minutes ago, received an adrenalin spike that was well used in the next half an hour or so.

It had been a hard week. Australia was on fire. Every year the drought dried continent suffered and every year International Rescue did all it could to help. Brains had even designed some specialised equipment, deployed through Tracy Industries to help dampen the eucalypt fuel load, but the change of climate over the last hundred odd years had done its damage and the ecosystem suffered for it.

It was painful to watch.

And tiring to fight.

John had taken to coming down not only for Christmas, but for the fires. He had developed a communications network, tied into TB5, to help coordinate the fire services of the country and pin point the hot spots. At the end of the last outbreak, Gordon had been gobsmacked to find his usually reclusive brother sprawled in a chair beside the Australian Fire Defense Network chief, beer in hand, swapping stories.

It had helped that the chief was the middle of five himself and a communications specialist pushed into management. There was much commiseration.

But none of the past really foretold this little hiccup.

Later when Gordon referred to said incident as a ‘hiccup’, Virgil’s eyebrows had frowned so much, they’d physically climbed off his head and slapped Gordon around his.

Or it could have been Virgil’s hand. Gordon was too busy ducking to really identity the body parts his brother was using.

So, with three brothers aboard, Virgil had plenty of back up.

Gordon was fully awake and stabilising Two before he had even had a chance to draw in a breath. They were halfway across the Tasman Sea, finally on the way home for a well-deserved break.

“Virgil?” John was out of his seat and moving towards the pilot.

“Uh, I’m okay.” The man straightened, still in his silver firefighting suit, minus the helmet. A quick look in his brother’s direction and Gordon could see it was all a lie. Even through the soot on Virgil’s face, his brother’s complexion was pale, almost green. “Just a stitch.”

“Doesn’t look like one from here, bro.” Gordon frowned as John gently nudged Virgil back in his seat. The pilot closed his eyes and lay back, his shoulders dropping just a little. John reached over to the console and flicked a couple of switches. Virgil’s vitals sprang up in all their holographic glory.

Even Gordon could see something was seriously wrong. “You have a fever. What the hell, Virg?”

His brother stared at his stats and frowned. “Just thought I was hot.”

No surprise considering the conditions they were working in.

John sighed. “Your suit has active refrigeration, Virgil, you know that. You should be the coolest of all of us.”

If it had been a different situation, Gordon would have then started a ‘discussion’ on who exactly was the coolest or the hottest of the brothers. As it was, another groan from his engineer brother killed all conversation other than medical concern.

“What is it?” John disengaged Virgil’s seat from the dash, pulling it back and giving him access to his older brother.

“My side.” Virgil’s eyes were squeezed shut.

His lower right side.

Five minutes later and Gordon was beelining Two to the nearest hospital, which turned out to be Auckland near the northern tip of New Zealand.

Less than an hour later, Virgil had his very angry appendix removed.

Of all things.

For the past three days, it had been a mixture of firefly pod and fire exo-suit. His brother had been tossing about massive hoses, shifting huge amounts of timber, excavating firebreaks and water bombing from Two.

Apparently, all while suffering from appendicitis.

When Scott arrived on scene, he was a walking facepalm.

When Virgil woke up, it was all kind words for the first hour or so while he recovered from the anaesthetic, but after that, the tongue lashing Scott delivered was enough to strip the paint off the walls of Virgil’s hospital room.

Grandma ended up dragging the man from the room.

Everyone was quiet after that.

No one liked it when Scott got scared.

Least of all Scott.

But even Gordon had to agree that his eldest brother had a point. Appendicitis wasn’t something that didn’t come with symptoms. Virgil admitted that he had noted some pain, but he had been busy. There had been more important things.

Scott’s response to that was only suitable for mature audiences.

Gordon couldn’t help but agree after having to watch his brother writhe in pain on one of his own hover stretchers while they had been on approach to Auckland.

But it had happened when it had happened and everyone was safe, Virgil included. There were much worse scenarios available considering their occupations and the entire family was grateful it had turned out best it could.

Scott was still livid, though, likely because the man was exhausted. They were all exhausted.

Grandma eyed all of them in turn, cornering each of them in their hotel rooms. It didn’t take her more than half a day to conclude that International Rescue needed a well-earned break. Virgil’s illness made a great excuse and her meeting with Scott was short, sharp and to the point.

The Commander of International Rescue contacted the GDF not long after, advising their aunt that their organisation would not be available for the next week. Eos was tasked with redirecting emergency calls after Grandma grabbed John by the scruff of his neck and with an equally sharp word in his ear, grounded the spaceman beside his brothers.

Virgil received a few glares, but the tired man just rolled over awkwardly and went back to sleep. Apparently, he agreed with Grandma.

Always did, the big Grandma softie.

Except perhaps with her cooking, but that led Virgil to being the biggest victim in that department because despite his incapacity to lie, he would do anything for the woman.

Virgil was released from the hospital a day after his surgery and they helped him back to their hotel rooms and set him up with the holoprojector and an appropriate stash of snacks and engineering journals. Kayo even bought him a sketchbook and an array of art materials.

For two days, the brothers hung out with him or darted out to the shops for convenience’s sake. Copious amounts of takeout were consumed, a treat they were often denied on the Island. But ultimately five usually very active men got very bored very quickly.

They couldn’t go home, because Virgil wasn’t allowed to fly. His operation excluded air travel for at least seven days, which meant, to add insult to injury, they would be stuck on the mainland for Christmas Day.

Their first Christmas off in who knew how many years, and they couldn’t even share it at home.

John distracted himself by linking in with Eos and helping out with emergency calls...until Grandma discovered him and rounded on both him and Eos with the ire Scott had managed to inherit.

Both father and daughter behaved after that, Eos a little stunned at the power of the eldest Tracy.

Alan dove into his computer games and hermitized. Gordon could only swim so much, so resorted to pranking Alan, which ended up in the brawl of the century and half the penthouse draped in toilet paper.

Scott turned to Tracy Industries and began phone calls that lasted hours. Virgil sent Gordon to chase him down.

Scott quite frankly ignored him, which led to Virgil hauling himself off the couch and doing the chasing himself.

That led to a screaming match that ended with both men pale when Virgil twisted angrily and groaned as he pulled at his stitches.

The atmosphere plummeted after that and the whole penthouse floor deteriorated into a sullen gloom.

It was shaping up to be an ass of a Christmas.

Until Gordon had an idea.

[euphoriacrossing]

So Animal Crossing could not be coming at a better time.

With all this coronavirus shiz kicking up, there could be no better distraction for me than Animal Crossing New Horizons. I am also glad I canceled my physical order because I don't want any shipping delays keeping it away a moment longer than it has to be... I'm not at all saying that to cause alarm, as far as I know there will BE no shipping delays on those types of products, but I personally was already worried about possible delays and now all this stuff is going on, it didn't make me feel any better about it and at least now my sister and I have the game the moment it comes out either way.

Which by the way, when should I be looking for the digital copy to be unlocked? Will it be midnight my time, or midnight pacific time? I'm on central time with Chicago. That being said, I may TRY to go to bed depending on how I'm feeling and just play when I wake up, but we'll see.

But anyway, all this coronavirus stuff makes me very anxious. It's good to know that I'll have the game though, through whatever goes down as an escape. I mean, everyone acts like we live in a dystopian novel and we've been close enough these past few years, I'm not saying they are far from right. But I've read enough dystopian novels to know that this doesn't go well for humanity. People die in dystopian novels... not often if they're the hero, but I know I'm not fit to be the hero in this kind of scenario, so I'm expendable. If that makes sense...

I just am ready for all of this to end though. The sickness, people's selfishness, people's stupidity.. I know those things don't come to an end with the coronavirus, but the illness gives them an extra leg up lately it seems.

I went on facebook for an hour and left feeling physically sick to my stomach. One, I saw MORE than one person saying they were intentionally disobeying the unwritten rules of social isolation, like someone made a post about if schools were out to keep kids home if at all possible because that's the point. Someone commented on that exact post with the attitude of "uh, you can't make me stay home with my five billion kids all under two, we'd go crazy, blah, blah..." listen here you walking advertisement for birth control, it's not meant to protect you or your dumb kids, we're talking about protecting EVERYBODY especially since young kids can't be properly taught hygiene protocols. So KEEP YOUR NASTIES AT HOME.

And that was only one such example of stupidity, I saw more, but I won't get into every case.

And really this illness is effecting predominantly the elderly and the immunocompromised. I have my two 80 year old grandparents to be concerned about. And then more than them even, both my sister and myself are immunocompromised. I always worry about my sister first. And really I'm worried about all my family because my mom's lungs aren't great so this could effect her a great deal, too. My dad is as healthy as we can possibly know without him ever going to the dr, but they also both work at jobs that we cannot afford for them to leave until they are forced to, and while my dad's job is questionably hygienic enough (he works at a car place, and they are taking precautions like they are no longer allowed to share a coffeepot or have food brought to them much to my father's chagrin but you know /I/ appreciate it), my mom works at Hobby Lobby where people are always bringing their sick kids (yes sick as in out of school just came from the doctor sick... remember how I have cancer? Yeah, these people are the kind who have no consideration for MY life. Remember, while you may not come in contact DIRECTLY with the elderly or I'll, the people you DO come in contact with often have families they are working to support, some of whom may be elderly or ill so if you're sick please never go anywhere you don't HAVE to) and they are always putting things in their mouths and such, and just... from the stories this lady tells me I will never set foot in a hobby lobby store again. People who go there are straight up gross, and if YOU go to Hobby Lobby, well be careful what you touch. (I mean, think of fabrics where my mom works... people put the STORE'S FABRIC PINS IN THEIR MOUTH... not only is that bad for you because you could catch something, but my mom touches those... if she's seen it she'll have them throw it away, but if she doesn't she's touching your mouth germs and bringing them to her two elderly parents and two immunocompromised children. Thank goodness she washes her hands, but is that enough? And anyway, those pins go in the fabric you buy, and if they have been in someone's mouth unbeknownst to you... yuck right?) But point being, this illness likely won't kill you, don't worry. If you have elderly grandparents though, or a friend with cancer, someone like that? Worry about them because this /could/ kill them and please do right by them by not going out unless it's important and practicing good hygiene.

Anyway, it's just like I have to worry about everyone in my family for some reason, and then there are some people not giving the first flip about any of this because they are self centered and it doesn't effect them.

Sorry for rambling on. It's just... once I have New Horizons I can take a deep breath of fresh ocean air, and focus on something that isn't this for a while.

I'll have goals to work towards, and things to do that will keep my mind from wandering too far off on it's own. And hopefully I will be able to play with some of the switch friends i have now (if you would like my switch code, just shoot me a message and ask, I'll absolutely give it to you), and so I'll be able to socialize in safe ways. Just... friday cannot come soon enough.

Anyway, I have some stuff to get done on New Leaf in the next fifteen minutes before Re-Tail closes... you know, I won't be missing that at all, I can tell you. I'm excited to play how I want, when I want, and not be held back by the hour of the day (or night). I've struggled with a screwed up day-night cycle for the longest time, even before New Leaf, so I've always had some issues playing within the confines of the time the game sets for you. But with New Horizons they clearly saw this problem and aimed to change things, so no more rushing to the store to sell things before it closes.

Speaking of... gotta go. But less than a week, aren't you SO excited. I am. I need this badly.

[psyched2b]

✏5, 6 and 17 with Bucky boy or Loki please

Disclaimer: I wrote this at work, so if anything seems off, it’s because I’m posting from my phone, not computer.

5. She’s hiding behind the sofa.

6. You’re Satan.

17. I’d rather die than do that.

You and Loki had made plans to bake Christmas cookies together. Or rather, you had made plans and told Loki that he was helping you… whether he wanted to or not.

However, he was on the “Not” helping side and made it abundantly clear that he would not partake in your Christian celebrations saying, “I would rather die than do that”.

You just roll your eyes at him and tell him that because he was being overdramatic, he no longer got a vote.

But, of course, in true Loki fashion, at the time you were supposed to meet in the kitchen to start, he ‘conveniently’ goes ‘missing’.

As fate would have it, there was a missing person sign hanging on the fridge with a picture of Loki in Thor’s hand writing that said, “Have You Seen Me?” and you knew that the older brother would prove to be a reliable source.

“Hey, Thor! Have you seen your brother around?” You ask as you enter the private study where he was ‘reading up on Midgardian modern literature’. Today, it appeared to be ‘The Hunger Games’.

The God of Thunder stands up from his spot behind the desk in greeting with a smile, gesturing for you to take the seat before him, all without looking up from his book. “Lady Y/L/N. I’m glad you are here. I have a question regarding this fascination book about this uh- Panem. I take it that this place represents a dystopian future for the United States, yes? Well, why would all the other countries turn their back and let this annual macabre massacre happen? Though I enjoy a good fight, putting children in the ring seems absolutely deplorable.” He finally looks up from the book. “District Four, tell me, is that Florida?”

You bite your lip in an attempt to keep the smile off your lips, but ultimately fail at the Gods enthusiasm. “You do realize that it is just fiction, right? I think it’s unlikely that anything like this could actually happen, though with the way things are looking today, who knows. It is post apocalyptic America. Fingers crossed, though. Fingers crossed. Besides, I kinda always thought District Four was California. Finnick seems like a surfer dude.”

Thor’s face screws into a look of confusion as he parrots, “Finnick? Surfer Dude?”

Laughing, you give a comforting pat on the arm. “You may not have gotten to him yet.” Then you shake your head, reminding yourself why you are there. “Anywho, where’s Loki? I saw your sign but I know you know where he’s at.”

Thor leans back in his chair and gives you a knowing smile. “I put up that sign because I know not where he is.”

You roll your eyes at him and mimic his relaxed stance. “Mhm,” you hum, unimpressed. “Want to try that again?”

Thor’s smile widens into a cheshire grin, having fun with this game. “Loki wishes for me to send you his regards and sincerest apologies. He was called back to Asgard for erm, diplomatic reasons.”

You quirk an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest.“Now really, Thor? That’s the best you got?” You roll your eyes again. “There’s a reason why Loki is the God of Lies, not you. ‘Diplomatic reasons’? Dude, Asgard was destroyed. By you.”

“Surtur, actually,” Thor automatically corrects with a big dopey smile. “And I had to give it my best shot so I can have a defense against the greasy weasel himself when he seeks me out for retribution. I know that I can’t lie to you, nor do I want to. I also want some of those cookies you will be making.” He puffs his bottom lip in a pout and gives you his best puppy dog eyes. “Can I have some? Please, Y/N? Please?!”

You manage to keep an unamused look on your face for all of three seconds before you crack and give him a smile. “Only if you tell me where he is.”

Thor nods enthusiastically. “Yes, of course. Loki’s hiding behind the couch on our floor.”

“Oh no,” you gasp, a panicked look coming on your face. “Don’t tell me.”

Thor gives you a sympathetic look with a sorrowful nod. “He’s a cat.”

“Come on, Lokitty. They are literally just cookies.”

Your plea was greeted with a hiss and you let out a frustrated sigh.

For the last five minutes, you have been trying to coax your boyfriend out from underneath the couch. As soon as he saw you coming down the hall, he leapt from his perch on the back of the couch and dove under into the tiny space between the floor and the furniture. Since then, any attempt to reach for him was greeted with a hiss and a swipe of a paw with sharp claws.

“I swear to the ever loving god, if you don’t cut this shit out right now, I am getting the spray bottle and will throw a blanket over you and give you a very invasive flea bath followed by a shave because do you really need all that hair?”

You sit back on your heels and wait for your threat to be acknowledged by another hiss.

Much to your surprise, Lokitty peeks his head out from his spot, giving you the stink eye. You glare in return, not faltering under his gaze. “Not even joking,” you confirm, narrowing your eyes into slits.

A deep rumble erupts from the black cat’s chest before he leaves his spot completely and sits in front of you. A moment later, a bright green light shimmers over his form and soon enough, the Loki you were most familiar with stood before you with the most adorable pout on his face.

He turns his nose up at you. “You are Satan.”

Standing up from the ground, you roll your eyes in return. “And you are acting like a petulant child.”

Silence settles between the two of you and it turns into a game of who would speak first. Tension is thick, the both of you fuming at each other.

Unlike Loki, you didn’t have forever to hold a grudge. That, and you wanted answers.

“I don’t understand,” you murmur in a harsh tone, glaring at a random tile on the floor. “It’s literally just baking cookies. We’ve baked together before. And you liked it. Why is this any different?”

Loki sniffs, “I feel that I’ve been very clear. I do not wish to partake in any of your Christian celebrations. Especially after you threaten to cut my hair.”

You honest to god facepalm. You weren’t in the mood to bullshit today. “First of all, I only threatened your hair because I knew that it would get you out from underneath the damn couch. Second, you are starting to sound like Thor when it comes to your hair. Third, I love your hair. You know this. So obviously, it was an empty threat. So get over it.”

You watch Loki’s touch facade begin to crack with a twitch of his lips before he caves and smiles at you. “I love that you don’t coddle me.”

“Mhm,” you hum, still not impressed. “Sure you do. If you love me so much, you would stop putting up a fight about f—ing Christmas cookies.” Loki goes to interrupt, but you throw a hand up. “Ah-uh. I’m speaking. You can stop this B.S. about it being a Christian Holiday. There is no one here who really claims to be Christian. It is literally just a holiday like any other and you know this. Besides, the Christmas ‘we’ celebrate today hold strong pagan themes such as Yuletide or jólnir, which literally was meant to celebrate the Norse Gods. I.E. You, dumbass. So, fight me.” You pause. “I have a whole list of ways that the Christians have created their Christmas traditions from midwinter celebrations, so don’t even try to argue with me.”

Strong arms wrap around you, pulling you into Loki’s embrace. “See, I knew you loved me. If I was anyone else, you would have just ignored me. I love it when you get feisty.” He presses a kiss to your neck and you shiver in pleasure.

“Yeah, yeah. Love you too. Now can we please go make those cookies now!”

D.B.C: ✏️ Marvel Drabble Challenge✏️| 🎼Musical Names 🎼|💚 Marvel Character Ships💚|❓Get to Know❓|⭐️Headcanons⭐️|

@bettercallsabs @coonflix @dont-stop-keep-walking @angryteapot @geeksareunique @meggie-mouse-28 @mentallych-ill-desi @mermaidxatxheart @moonlessnight14 @theawesomefactor123 @thinkwritexpress-official

[sicklylittlesnowflake]

I saw your post that ya don't have many prompts and I thought I'd try??? So Like I love love love sick betty and honestly I just want all of her precious friends worrying over her and my heart just melts omg..

(I love me some Betty Cooper anon, she’s my princess and pride and joy thanks for the prompt!! Also sorry my Beronica shipping ass can’t stop whoops!!)

Betty Cooper was the girl who did everything for everyone, and never herself.

She was a giver, and was the ray of sunshine in everyone’s lives. She was the friend who was always there for others, and it was practically impossible for anyone to dislike her.

Betty Cooper was there for Archie Andrews his whole life, supporting him with his music career and listening to his songs always. She gave him feedback, lifting his spirits.

Betty Cooper was there for Kevin Keller when he felt frustrated or upset, and was always there to reassure him that there was nothing wrong with him and made him feel safe.

Betty Cooper was there for Jughead Jones in his lowest days, offering him love and kindness when he clearly needed it. She defended him from the whole town when he was ostracised for matters out of his control, his shining light that made him feel like he belonged.

Betty Cooper was there for Veronica Lodge every day. She was destined to be with her, souls intertwined by some greater force. Betty supported Veronica and served as a light when all things in her life seemed to go dark. The bit of purity when all things seemed to become corrupt with filth.

And of course, her friends loved her back.

So when Betty was in need, it was only natural for all her friends to give back.

Jughead was first to take action when Betty walked into the Blue and Gold’s offices, pale, all colour drained from her face besides fevered cheeks and dark circles.

She had come in about forty five minutes before school, feeling bad she hadn’t had much progress done on an article so decided to get a head start. Luckily, Jughead had already been there about 10 minutes prior, due to Archie dragging his reluctant ass over to school because of early football practice.

“Betts!” Jughead exclaimed, rushing towards her and feeling her cheek with the back of his hand.

“You shouldn’t be here!”

Betty smiled at him reassuringly, “Im fine, Juggy, just didn’t get a lot of sleep..”

“Didn’t get a lot of sleep?! It looks like you haven’t slept in days!” Jughead exclaimed, watching as she began to walk shakily.

“Jug, I need to finish this article for Cheryl..she really needs it,” Betty rasped. Following Cheryl’s suicide attempt, she needed the support of her friends more than anything. Her and Jughead had decided to get all the people who cared about her to write a little something for her, and Jughead had done more than he should’ve for the article already. She needed to finish this.

“Then I’ll do it, Betty!” Jughead insisted, rushing to her side as he watched as a wave of nausea hit her, wrapping an arm around her waist to support her. He lead her to the couch and dropped her gently there.

“No, Jug! You’ve done way too much already, Jug. It’s not fair on you–with all you’ve been going through..” Betty attempted to sit back up but Jughead gently pushed her down so she was lying down.

“No way, Betty. Let me take care of you for once,” Jughead pleaded.

“Jughead, you’re a great caretaker, really, but you’re going to get sick! You know your immune systems awful!”

Jughead shrugged, pulling his phone out and shooting a text.

Fuckhead Jones III: Yo Betty’s sick meet me at the blue and gold

“Well, I won’t be your only caretaker,” Jughead smirked.

Justin Gingerlake: Omw lemme get reg out of my way

Kill me Keller: What?!?!?!?! Coming!!!

Ronnie Weasley: I can’t believe jughead jones is saying “Yo”…anyway I’m coming

Betty groaned, “Jughead!”

“What?” Jughead said sheepishly.

She softened, curling up and snuggling herself, “Jug, you got your computer? ”

“Hmm, yes, why?”

“..Can you please read out one of your poems to me? They’re very relaxing.”

“Hmm..they are a peer into my melancholy emo soul, completely exposing my vulnerable, despairing being contemplating our very existence..” Jughead joked.

“But for you Betty Cooper, of course.”

Jughead opened up his laptop and opened up a file, clearing his throat as he recited a hopeful poem, a complete different take than he usually took in his art, in his clarion, dramatic tenor voice.

Betty closed her eyes and immersed herself in his art.

Archie arrived first, a glass of water and his guitar bag in his hands.

“I brought you some water, Betty,” Archie grinned, drenched in sweat.

Jughead fake gagged, “Ugh, Arch, you reek! Clean up, will you?”

“I would have used perfume, Jughead, but you’re severely allergic, remember? Do I need to remind you of the Andrews Construction Dinner incident of 2016?”

Jughead groaned, “Don’t.”

Betty laughed hoarsely, “You’re a saviour, Archie Andrews. Also, I don’t smell a thing, Jughead’s just being a dick.”

Archie laughed then pulled a chair towards the couch and helped her sit up, far too weak to do it herself. He propped up a pillow so she was comfortable, sitting next to her and rubbing her back comfortingly as he helps her drink up the glass of water.

Betty winced as her head began to ache intensely, her head throbbing and pounding.

“Archie, you’re really a star,” Betty thanked quietly, as to not strain her voice.

“A star that’s going to be big one day,” Jughead said softly.

“In fact..Archibald over here’s written a new song, would you do the honours and play it for Elizabeth here?” Jughead grinned.

“Oh..it might make the headache worse,” Archie said.

“No, Arch, please..I love your songs.”

Jughead raised his eyebrow and smiled, watching as Archie unpacked the guitar and started to pluck melodically at the strings.

Kevin came in on the last chorus of Archie’s song, holding a damp towel.

“Oh, Kev!” Betty cooed.

“The moment I heard my best pal was in need I came as quickly as I could,” Kevin smiled and squinted at Archie.

“Not quick enough,” Archie teased.

“Fuck you, Andrews, and your annoyingly toned body,” Kevin hissed.

Archie laughed, packing away his guitar and sat down on the table with Jughead, typing away on the computer.

“Betty, have you been overworking yourself?” Kevin cooed softly, helping her lie back down on the cushion and gently draping the damp, cool towel over her forehead.

“No–”

“Yes she has,” Archie and Jughead said in unison.

Betty released a soft sigh of relief at the cooling touch of the towel, some of the discomforting heat slowly melting away.

“Kevin, you’re the very best..”

“No Betts, you are. You’re always working for others, but you gotta give back to yourself sometime. But don’t fret, we’re right by your side,” Kevin smiled kindly, as he dragged a chair next to the couch.

He cracked his knuckles to which Betty let out a noise of delight.

“Kevin, are you about to give me one of the infamous Keller Massages?”

“You bet I am, for my best gal,” Kevin grinned, as he softly massaged Betty’s temples, circulating them so that the intensity of her headaches slowly subsided. He rubbed slowly and gently, easing away her troubles and sorrows so she was only surrounded by love and support.

Veronica was the last, but the moment she burst through the doors of the Blue and Gold, in complete sweats, all their questions regarding her tardiness was answered.

Veronica was carrying a multitude of items, a luxurious furry blanket, a packet of medicine, a thermos of soup, tea bags and a box of chocolates.

“Well, that was not expected,” Archie blinked.

Jughead smirked, “That was the only thing that was destined to happen, Archie.”

“I’m so sorry I’m so late, Betty! The moment I heard you weren’t feeling well I tried to get everything ready ASAP and I ran all the way here!”

Veronica set down all her items onto a table and approached Betty, kneeling down so she could be in eye-to-eye level. She frowned at seeing her so ill and weak. Betty Cooper did not deserve to be sick. She was too good to be sick.

Betty chuckled fondly, “Ronnie..you didn’t have to..”

“Oh Betty! My poor angel,” Veronica frowned as she ran over to the table and draped the luxurious blanket over her entire frame, tucking her in to the blankets protectively.

“Are you warm enough? You must feel awful,” Veronica doted.

“Ronnie..I’m fine,” Betty giggled, feeling a lot better by Veronica just being there.

“I even got you these chocolates from Belgium, trust me, you’ll feel a lot better..”

Betty could only giggle, “Ronnie..”

She cleared her throat, “..but we are going to be late..”

“What?! No, Betty, you’re going home!” Veronica insisted.

“Can’t–my mom is away on a reporter story and my dad is out of town on a different story,” Betty explained.

“Then just stay here and I’ll give you a ride home later!” Kevin butted in.

“I can’t stay here!” Betty protested.

“We’ll tell the nurse you’re comfortable here, and don’t feel up to moving up there,” Archie suggested.

“She won’t listen to you, Arch!” Betty chuckled.

“I’ll tell her,” Jughead piped up, the gang knowing full well how soft the old nurse was on Jughead, seeing as how often he ended up in her office.

“I’ll even get us all excuses to look after you!” Jughead offered.

“No way! You can’t all look after me!” Betty protested.

“Well, at least Veronica,” Archie butted in.

Betty and Veronica blushed.

“U-uh, w-what?” Veronica stammered.

Kevin laughed, “Oh my god, let’s all stop this hetero bullshit, we all know that Veronica here is the best option here.”

“Agreed,” Jughead and Archie nodded.

“Well, we’ll leave you guys to it! I’ll drive you home later today and we’ll all check up on you later, yeah?” Kevin beamed, heading out the door as Jughead and Archie said their goodbyes as the two headed over to the Nurse before class.

Veronica chuckled as they left, and gave her a warm smile.

“Have you eaten anything today?”

Betty shook her head, “..I kinda forgot..I was in a huge haze this morning.”

“Well, I’m here to the rescue,” Veronica said kindly, her voice so warm and loving Betty swore her chills were abating.

Veronica began to boil some water in the kettle Betty had brought in for Jughead’s coffee addiction, and when it was done used it to make her a nice peppermint tea.

She opened up the soup in the thermos and passed it to Betty, who had managed to sit up while she had done so.

Betty sipped at the soup with delight, the flavours absolutely delicious and creamy, “Veronica, this is great..”

“Anything for my best girl,” Veronica cooed, watching in satisfaction as Betty ate up the soup.

Once Betty had finished, Veronica began to pop open one of the medicine packets and passed her the pill along with the peppermint tea, to which Betty obliged. Betty sighed in contentment, eyes closed in satisfaction as the aroma and tastefully sweet tangs hit her.

“Veronica..you really didn’t have to do this all for me..You’re the best,” Betty whispered softly.

Veronica blushed lightly, “..Of course..Betty, you know I…really care about you.”

“You know, you’re like this..oh jesus..this is really stupid..but you’re like the best thing in my life right now, this absolutely perfect light..”

“..Ronnie, I’m not perfect,” Betty whispered weakly.

Veronica softened, “Of course. That’s not what I meant, but in my eyes..all of your faults and little things..they add up into this beautiful beautiful person who feels like perfect. Someone so..wonderfully crafted, yet flawed..but always striving for the good.”

Betty smiled softly, “Veronica..”

“You give all the time Betty..I’m just..so glad I can give back for once. To thank you for blessing me with your company,” Veronica said softly.

“I like being with you too, Ronnie..it all feels so nice..just me and you here..” Betty whispered.

Veronica felt her heart soar and insides melt, completely warm and tingly. She couldn’t help but begin to stroke her hair softly, brushing each strand of luscious blonde hair carefully and tenderly, like she was made of magic. To Veronica at least, she was made of magic.

Veronica fondled with her hair for a little bit, taking in all of the wonder that was Betty Cooper in this beautifully silent moment. This was all a reality, and she wasn’t just some princess from a fairytale, she was real.

Betty broke the silence, a smile coming to her lips, “..Veronica..come here..”

Veronica hesitated, stunned, but was pulled in by Betty who began to cuddle her lovingly, a little influenced by the fever but genuine all the same.

“Sing to me, please?” Betty mumbled.

Veronica blushed, but finally controlled herself enough to lightly sing.

“If you be my star, I’ll be your sky,you can hide underneath me and come out at night..when I turn jet black and you show off your lightI live to let you shine..I live to let you shine..But you can skyrocket away from meAnd never come back if you find another galaxyFar from here, with more room to fly,but leave me your stardust to remember you by…”

“That’s sweet,” Kevin whispered by lunch time as he walked in, Archie and Jughead right behind him, smiling along as they admired the sight.

A sight of two sweet girls intertwined with each other, holding each other close, never to let go.

[esperanzacboronial]

Aging and Luchino for the askmeme?

I’m putting this under the cut because it’s a long one. I got carried away a little bit because I,, love them.

Aging: 

A: Where did Luchino find this woman? I’ve thought a lot about it, and I feel like given Narita’s track record, since she’s not a career assassin and she’s good at fighting, she was probably either a) in the army or b) in the circus. In the Naritaverse those seem to be the main options. I’m leaning towards former army because 1) I could absolutely see her being discharged due to insubordination I mean oh my g-d, 2) seems very very very comfortable with guns, 3) would be a nice parallel to Huey picking up his followers from army defects. 

B: When Death was alive the two of them were big on contests of strength. Got a few spare minutes before a mission? Push up contest. How many pullups can you do while hanging from the side of this building? I can do 30. When Death is referred to as the strongest among them Illness fumes, but Aging chortles, “I beat him at standing arm wrestling just five minutes ago, c’mon.” Empathy isn’t her thing, so she doesn’t feel anything when she finds out he’s dead, but she’s pretty bummed out because neither Life nor Illness will have these absurd competitions with her in his place.

C: Not even headcanon, but the Mask Makers are, uh… they seem to be really sexist, on the whole. Two of their strongest fighters are women, and these two get constantly put down and underestimated — and the effect that has on Illness, who doesn’t want to be good at killing people, is a lot different than the effect it has on Aging, who legitiamtely enjoys it, who sees it as her skill, her trade. She has to deal 24/7 with people ignoring and dismissing work that she’s actually proud of, but she takes it all in stride and good humour because she knows that reacting to it would only make them think less of her.

D: I can’t… really think of any headcanons that are definitely never going to happen in canon? she’s only really just gotten her start in canon. anything could happen.

Luchino:

A: Luchino being tiny as he is is a laugh when it comes to, you know, Aging deadlifting him, but when you put it into context with the fact that he’s consistently doing something causes him to be physically sick, and has been doing that thing since childhood, and does so regularly enough that he’s able to just calmly count how many times he’s thrown up in each instance — when you put that together with him being that small (smaller than Sylvie at, what, 17ish?), it seems to suggest malnourishment. I know men can reach full maturity a lot later, but given that his lifestyle is so unhealthy, mentally and emotionally and, as a result of that mental and emotional strain, physically, it seems pretty likely that he’s stunted his growth. 

B: Luchino performs alone in spite of having a literal organisation full of potential magician’s assistant candidates, and that’s because he’s been there, done that and they’re all terrible at it in their own unique ways. Aging is too tall for most of the tricks (can’t fit in the box to be sawn in half, can’t fit in the box to be disappeared, can’t fit in so many boxes oh my g-d why don’t they make these in bigger sizes) and kept catching the knives during knife throwing. Illness also does that one (”you’re throwing them at me!!! what was I supposed to do??”), and the one time they tried the sawing in half trick she, uh, definitely went to a pretty bad place mentally and ended up being sick (that part isn’t funny at all, though, so moving on). Death was way too intimidating and freaked the audience out, and Life was just (sigh) in between every trick and it made for a really disheartening performance. In the end he just decides that the only way to have a decent show is to do it by himself. 

C: There are a lot of criminal heirs and heiresses in the naritaverse, and they mostly fall into either a) sheltered, good-hearted, ethical, one day finds out about the truth of their family’s business and turns against it, or b) pretty aware of what their family does and throw themselves into it with vigour because they’re made of the same stuff, but the thing about Luchino is he doesn’t have the luxury of fitting into either category. Here’s a boy with a worse tolerance for death and violence than Eve Genoard who throws himself into it anyway thanks to duty (avenge Monica), expectations (points @ my post about his hyper empathy), and, honestly, a lack of options (what else is a young teenager going to do without parents, close family, or friends? he keeps his allies. he does what he has to do to keep his allies); he hates what he does, thinks it’s disgusting and impure, is painfully aware of how much it ruins him, but he never had a shot at purity. I mean, to get into the headcanon bit, to be functionally prepared to take over the Mask Makers as a young teenager (not emotionally or mentally, g-d no, but functionally), Luchino probably killed someone or something for the first time before the age of ten, or at the very least he was helping with his father’s business before the age of ten, learning the trade, learning what it takes to kill, to injure, to get information, to get what they need out of people. He seems to be intimately acquainted with some advanced levels of torture by 17 — he’s probably had blood on his hands his whole life, since he was a literal child, this kid who can’t even stomach the sight of it. He understates how much it affects him and acts professionally about it, and along with that being out of pride, I think that’s really the only way he knows how to approach thinking about it, because Luchino B. Campanella never even had a shred of childhood, even though he would be a lot more content if he was one of those good old sheltered-from-the-bad-stuff family heirs. 

D: Again, I can’t actually think of anything that contradicts canon, because he’s been in canon so little, but in terms of one that wasn’t expanded upon much: I really do feel like Luchino trusted Life beyond just ‘(shrug) another mask maker’. He was stated to consider the four agonies his closest subordinates — he let all of them lead in his place when necessary, and he left Life to handle most things on the other ship while he didn’t even. tell Illness the plan. The very serious, sigh-I’m-so-professional-sigh attitude would have appealed to him a lot in a mentor figure, unfortunately, and especially when he was younger I could see him relying on his guidance heavily, unfortunately. I hope the betrayal in 2003 when he finds out the full situation is hearty. 

[tori10rambles]

Just got back from the Power Rangers movie. Reactions under the cut in no particular order, just word vomit.

Before I start though, I want to mention the trailers I saw:

Spider-Man: Homecoming: Despite no longer being a fan of the MCU, I want to watch this movie.

Wonder Woman: HELL YES PLEASE. I’m dragging my mom with me, because she loves Wonder Woman.

Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets: Looks good.

Despicable M3: Really? This actually looks pretty hilarious, but really?

Transformers: The Last Knight: STOP IT ALREADY BAY.

Captain Underpants: ...I cannot BELIEVE this is going to be a movie. Looks fun though.

First off, was it cheesy? YES. Was it not very action-filled? I think so. Did I enjoy it? HELL YES. Also, yes, it was sometimes nonsensical, but if you went into a Power Rangers movie thinking it WASN’T going to be cheesy and nonsensical... Bruh.

I love that they all have to be friends/teammates before they can morph at all. Like, they spend more time in the movie not able to morph because they don’t trust in each other and believe in each other. And I also like that they don’t become instant masters of their powers/abilities/the zords.

There’s a lot of representation in this movie, and none of it was mocked. Billy’s autism is not made a joke, and neither is Trini’s questioning of her sexuality. It’s a miracle!  And this time, we actually got “five teenagers with attitude,” which as shown, is not necessarily a good thing.

Also, I cannot believe they killed off a Ranger. Before they even morphed. I don’t care that he got better. They actually killed a ranger. And Billy! Who is literally the most enthusiastic about this entire thing, and who morphs first, albeit accidentally.

There is something really, really hilarious about the fact that the Zeo Crystal, source of all life on Earth, was buried underneath a Krispy Kreme shop. And that Rita thinks that makes Krispy Kreme something significant.

The Mythology Gags are all great. A++ work there guys. I spotted:

The fact that all the Rangers are from different social statuses/cliques is fairly reminiscent of Dino Thunder

the reference to Zack being African American in the show

the Zeo Crystals in general as a nod to Power Rangers Zeo

The Three Rules of Rangering

“It’s Morphing Time”

The original theme song

 the streets named after Ranger Cities

Rita’s “Make My Monster Grow”

Rita being sent bitchslapped into space and coincidentally, past the moon aka her original base of operations

CAMEOS FROM AMY JO JOHNSON AND JASON DAVID FRANK

NEW STUDENT TOMMY OLIVER IN THE MID CREDITS SCENE which ties in nicely with Rita being the Original Green Ranger and holding the Power Coin before she was defeated

If there was a post credit scene, I did not see it because my brother’s a shit

And Rita mentions “others” willing to fight the Rangers for the Zeo Crystal, and she was an Evil Green Ranger, and there’s a mention of Tommy Oliver. All in all, I’m thinkiing the sequel, if Tommy is included, will include a suspicious Jason, which probably won’t help team morale. Also, this will complicate the apparent Jason-Kimberly attraction. But they’re teenagers, so I’m not surprised.

Oh, and if it was this hard to defeat Rita, I don’t want to imagine Zedd or the Machine Empire assuming they stick to MMPR villains.

Uh... as for actual character opinions:

Jason: That initial prank was really dumb, but I can see why he’s the Leader. His friendship with Billy is gr9, though his friendships with the other’s are also great, and the fact that he’s so defensive of his team, despite them not being a team yet is really heartwarming. His Calling Out Zordon about being scared was also a great moment.  Why the heck do you look like Zac Efron though?

Kimberly: First off, did we really need to take a shot of her in her underwear? Like, really? Also, I like the fact that she knows she was an Alpha Bitch, and is trying to change. Also, she’s the only one to stick a landing after leaping across the canyon, which is totally cool. Also wtf you look so much like Amy Jo Johnson I’m in shock what sorcery is this the casting for this role was perfect.

Billy: Why did Billy have to die first!? What did he do to deserve that!? First off, autistic!Billy makes a lot of sense even for the tv show. Secondly, as the guy who previously had no real friends but wanted some, the fact that he’s the most loyal and most pure (to paraphrase Rita) makes sense. Following that, it also makes sense that Billy’s the first to morph, given trust in your teammates is what is needed to morph. Also, the fact that being with his friends is just as good as talking to his deceased father. My feels! He’s one of my favorite characters.

Trini: First, let me say hell yes for the first Ranger to be questioning her sexuality! Second, I love her snark and the way she keeps people away to keep herself from being hurt resonates with me. The entire conversation about she doesn’t fit her family’s standards of normal, which is why she doesn’t admit she’s not straight to her parents, is also really, really significant, and I feel like that resonates with a lot of teenagers.

Zack: The other favorite character I had in this movie, not only because he’s the only Asian. He’s impulsive and stubborn and he clearly loves his mother. His greatest fear is that she’s going to die and leave him all alone, much like anyone whose parents are terminally ill. And the fact that he is the first to acknowledge his deepest fear to these four other relative strangers makes my heart warm. He’s also a Jerk, but underneath that he clearly cares, and he picks up on a lot of unsaid things. Like Trini’s sexuality. The fact that he immediately stops flirting with her is also really, really appreciative.

Rita: I didn’t think it was possible for them to make Rita more evil despite how ineffectual she seemed to be in the tv show, but damn did they do it. Killing Billy, being an Evil Green Ranger, and killing people for gold to make her monster? Goddamn. Also, by being an Evil Green Ranger, that means she betrayed the people she once trusted, and who still trusted her. Which makes me wonder how the hell she can still morph.

Goldar: He’s less useless than the tv character, but he seems more like like a mindless, loyal servant in this movie. His loyalty is amazing though, and him going head to head with the Megazord was cool and very reminiscent of Rock’em Sock’em Robots to me.

Zordon: Wow. He died within the first five minutes. He’s the Big Good of the series, so I wasn’t expecting that. But then he ends up in the ship’s mainframe and I breathed easy again. Until he lashed out at the Rangers because he’s scared of what Rita can do and angry that the Rangers aren’t morphing. Then I got angry again. And again, that disappeared when he revived Billy using the Morphing Grid.

Alpha: Oh my god. So, I remember Alpha as being pretty annoying and basically there as Zordon’s arms. Not so here. Apha is clearly badass if he can train and spar with super strong Rangers.

Zords: I love the Zords. I love that they’re connected to the Rangers. I love how they’re apparently sentient. I love the Megazord and how the Rangers need practice to make it work. Also, the novelization says Rita knows teams who haven’t made a Megazord despite being a team for years. The Team did it after 11 days of knowing each other (and ten minutes morphed)

Though I have no hips for the reboot!verse so far, my new BROTPs are Jason+Billy and Trini+Zack and Trini+Kimberly.

All in all, 10/10 would watch again.

[moirakoro]

Hi @lacunicamare! Here is your back-up gift for the @yuri-on-ice-valentine-exchange; I’m sorry it took so long! I wanted to have it posted for White Day, but I went with your slowburn prompt (with a bit of pair skating!!) aaand the whole fic got a bit out of hand, ahem. Anyway, happy belated Valentine’s Day/White Day - I really hope the length of this makes up for the wait!

Title: Around the world, with you Rating: G Characters/Ship: Mila/Sara + Emil and Michele Word count: 5′726

You can read this on AO3 too!

On the evening of the last day of the Grand Prix Final in Barcelona, once the Victory Ceremony and the compulsory interviews and the fan meetings and the congratulations are over and done, Mila walks back to the hotel with a smile on her face and alone. Although she didn’t manage to snag gold this time, her silver medal weighs nicely on her chest, under her coat where she kept it hidden from indiscrete and/or ill-intentioned gazes. Now all that’s left is to go back to her room on the fifth floor, change into something more comfortable than her Russian team official sportswear, and perhaps read a book or play some 3DS or leave sarcastic comments on Yuri’s Instagram posts until she feels like sleeping.

She’s already grinning at the idea when she enters the hotel lobby, but she barely has time to pass the revolving door before her eyes spot someone she thought had returned to their room long ago. Sara Crispino is standing in the lobby with her twin brother, already changed out of her gym clothes; and judging by the Italian Mila can hear, they’re… arguing.

Now, Mila doesn’t know a lot of Italian besides no and si and the mandatory ti amo, but she’s pretty sure she’s hearing a lot of the first one. Besides, it’s unusual for Sara to sound this annoyed. So Mila steps closer in a mixture of concern and, well, curiosity – and that’s when her fellow competitor notices her. Instantly, Sara’s eyes light up and she waves at Mila; the next second she’s asserting a last few words in Italian, then she turns to her and gives her her brightest, most suspiciously innocent smile.

“Right, Mila?” she asks. “We were planning to go to the funfair together, remember?”

Oh. So that’s why she seemed so relieved to see her. Well, Mila doesn’t have a single memory of anything related to a funfair, but what kind of friend doesn’t play along with their friends’ little white lies?

"Yeah,” she answers naturally; not to show off, but she’s a talented liar. “Sorry I’m late, by the way. Let me just go back to my room and change, and we can leave in like, five minutes at most!”

Michele seems to believe her and the way her lips curve into a perfectly faked smile, despite the doubt still obvious in his eyes, because he says nothing. Which is good, since it gives Sara an opportunity to grab Mila’s arm and drag her in the general direction of the elevator.

“See, Mickey, I’ll be alright!” she promises in a cheerful voice, before turning her gaze to Mila. “I’ll go with you. Let’s get ready quickly, I can’t wait to leave!”

Two seconds later, the elevator doors close behind them and both women are left alone, away from Michele’s dubious, concerned glare. The change in Sara’s attitude is instant, as her shoulders relax and she puts her hands in the pockets of her coat, sighing.

“Wow, that’s not very nice, tricking your brother like that,” Mila comments. “May I ask what he did to deserve it?”

Never one to do anything but laugh at her friend’s gentle teasing, Sara lets out an amused chuckle. “He followed me to the GPF, although I explicitly told him not to. It’s nothing serious, but he’ll never learn if I don’t get a little angry at him. So there’s no way I was going to let him come to the fair with me.”

Mila raises a skeptical brow. Michele’s always shouting he’ll protect his sister against everything and everyone, but the truth is she’s actually the one mothering him all the time, isn’t she? “Keep up the good work, you’re raising him well,” Mila snickers.

The elevator comes to a halt once it reaches the fifth floor, and the doors slide open. The both of them step into the corridor, Sara escorting Mila all the way to her room; and it’s only when the Russian skater swipes her key card on the reader that her friend and competitor speaks up again.

“Thanks for being my alibi, by the way,” she says with a sincere smile, unlike anything she was giving her brother earlier. “I’ll just wait a few minutes before I go back downstairs, then I should be able to leave without a problem.”

“Uh? You mean I’m no longer invited?”

Mila revels in the way Sara’s beautiful, purple eyes grow wider in surprise. Well, to be quite honest, she hadn’t been planning to go to any amusement park or anything of the sort tonight, but she and her friend only have so few opportunities to spend time together in a season; besides, Mila finds she really wouldn’t say no to some food right now. Especially if there’s cotton candy. Or churros.

“You’d like to come anyway?” Sara asks, still unbelieving.

“Yeah, sounds like fun. Also, you won’t have to sit next to creepy old men on rides if I’m here.”

Once again, Mila was just teasing her, but Sara laughs a true, sincere, happy laughter. “Alright then, but don’t make me wait too long!” she says as she playfully motions for her friend to hurry up and go change in her own room. Mila doesn’t need to be asked twice.

It’s way past ten in the evening when they arrive at the fair. For a second Mila suspects the rides might be closed before they get on the first one, even, but she forgets about it the moment they step into the area and notice how many people are still there having fun, from groups of teenagers talking loudly to couples sharing a box of candy or a serving of French fries. It’s a good thing they only came this late, after all; she can’t begin to imagine how crowded the place must have been in the afternoon. Besides, all the lights – from the rides and the food stands and all the games – shine so brightly in the night sky, it’s truly a sight to behold. Sara seems to agree, given her soft smile and the amazement that lights up her eyes when Mila turns her head to look at her. The sight makes Mila realize once again just why Michele is so adamant that his sister must be protected from all guys, and simultaneously want to make Sara have even more fun.

So she puts her hand on Sara’s shoulder and suggests they try out the pendulum ride first – to which Sara agrees heartily.

A whole hour and a half later, they’ve shouted their hearts out on two more rides, found out Sara is basically a goddess at bumper cars, ventured into the haunted house (where Mila kept gripping Sara’s arm every time something jumped in front of them and Sara laughed because, apparently, her brother always does the same), and somehow even found the time to grab something to eat. It’s almost midnight, now, or maybe even past midnight, and people are slowly starting to go home, but some rides are still open – including the Ferris wheel, which Sara had wanted to ride ever since she saw it in the distance, she tells Mila.

“It’s what made me want to come here in the first place. It was so colorful and bright from afar… and it’s even prettier from here.”

“Let’s hurry up and go before it closes, then!”

Thankfully, they don’t even have to run to make it to the last ride of the night. There are barely five, six people in front of them when they get in the queue, and a few minutes later, they climb into one of the small capsules, which rises as soon as the wheel mechanism is activated again. It takes the capsule a good two minutes to get to the top, but once it does, the happiness in Sara’s eyes is priceless; she sits on the edge of her seat with both hands on the window and looks at the illuminated city below like it’s the most beautiful thing on earth. Which, well, it might be, Mila must admit.

“Don’t you think it’s amazing, being able to see the city from above?” Sara asks. “I wish I’d had time to go sightseeing…”

“Like we ever have time to do that,” Mila sighs. “Ever since I got here, it’s been nothing but practicing, practicing, practicing, and sleeping whenever I had the time.”

“And my plane is taking off right after the banquet tomorrow…”

This time, it’s Sara’s turn to sigh. Their capsule is starting to come down; it will make another full turn, but then they will have to get off the ride, probably, which means their little evening of fun is almost over. They have no right to be disappointed, since they’ve already stayed up way too long for people skating in the gala at two tomorrow, but Mila’s heart still clenches. Oh, well. At least tonight was amazing. She’s glad she didn’t stay in her room, in the end, because even annoying Yuri all night can’t compare to an evening at the fair. (And she got both cotton candy and churros, so really, who is she to complain?)

The capsule finishes its second turn, and slowly comes to a halt. Mila gets off the ride first, still a bit dazzled by the city lights, but Sara follows her closely. It’s late and they’re tired, so they agree it’s time they go back to the hotel, and they leave the area. A five-minute taxi ride later, they’re back in the hotel elevator. When it stops on the fourth floor, Sara gets out. “Let’s do that again sometime,” she says.

And the last thing Mila sees before the doors slide close again is her fellow competitor and friend waving at her.

After Barcelona, they go about a month and a half before standing on the same ice again. They’re in Ostrava, this time, for the European Championships; it’s one of those competitions that happen over the span of five days and not four, which means they’re not skating every day. As athletes in the Ladies’ division, they’re actually only performing on Wednesday afternoon and Friday evening, which leaves them… well, not free, because they still need to train and exercise, but with a lot more free time than during the GPF on Thursday and Saturday.

“We could take a walk around the city tomorrow,” Mila suggests when they meet in the locker room after their (very successful, to say the least: Sara is in first place with Mila coming second) short program. She’s not sure her friend will say yes, since, well, last time Mila had kind of invited herself, and maybe Sara’s not that into city tours- But she does, in fact, say yes, and Mila can’t help but let her satisfaction show on her face.

Coincidentally, men solo competitors aren’t skating until Friday, so on Thursday afternoon it turns out Mila isn’t meeting up with one but two Crispino siblings, including a very tense-looking Michele – although he seems to relax a bit when she calls their names and he notices her. Or rather, he notices it’s just her Sara was planning to go out with.

“So, do you have any idea of where you’d like to go?” Mila asks, as naturally as she can manage. The truth is, somehow, she spent almost an hour browsing TripAdvisor last night; she realized she didn’t know what kind of places Sara liked to visit, though, so she ended up… making a list of some kind. Nothing much, just the addresses of a few landmarks, museums, parks and shopping malls in the city.

“I’ll let you choose, Sara,” Michele answers – but Sara doesn’t look like she has any idea either, so Mila takes it upon herself to suggest something.

“Well, if you’re into art, there’s this museum-”

She doesn’t have time to finish her sentence, though. Suddenly, there’s a shout-

“Mickey! Sara!”

And some human tornado going by the name of Emil Nekola throws his arms around a very annoyed Michele’s shoulders, having appeared out of nowhere but seemingly decided to invite himself into their little group.

“Hi, Mila!” he says when he finally notices her, too. “Were you all planning to go sightseeing? I can show you around, if you’d like!”

Oh, that’s right – Emil is from Czech Republic. Even though he may not live in Ostrava or anywhere near, it’s highly possible he’s been here before, if only for nationals or smaller competitions; so he must know at least a few things about the city… That means Mila’s been working for nothing, which is a little frustrating but, oh, well. Sara agrees enthusiastically and her brother would follow her to the end of the world in a heartbeat, so there’s no way Mila can say no.

A short bus ride later, they end up in the middle of a crowded street, which looks like a nice place to do some shopping – except that Emil suggests they should grab something to eat first, since he knows a restaurant nearby who serves the best meat, and… isn’t he totally clinging to Michele? When his arm isn’t thrown across the Italian’s back, he’s always at least got a hand on his shoulder; and he keeps talking to him to the point where it annoys Michele because he can’t even keep an eye on Sara (which, to be honest, is for the best : Sara is a grown woman, for heaven’s sake). Still, Mila almost feels like she’s intruding on something, and she can barely stifle her laugh. Suddenly, Sara’s fingers are on her forearm and she startles. She looks away from the men of their group to shoot her friend a questioning glance.

“Looks like we’re no longer needed,” she remarks, amusement shining in her purple eyes. Mila mimics her knowing smile; Sara feels the same as she does, apparently, and nothing could make her happier right now.  “So, about that museum you mentioned earlier…”

“It’s not too far from here. And I don’t think they’ll even notice if we leave right now.”

They exchange one last look of complicity, one last conspiratorial smile, and just like that it’s settled – Sara grabs Mila’s hand, and a second later, they’re gone.

There are two museums in the area, actually; they opt for the least popular but best rated one. Sara waits until they’re almost there to grab her phone and send her brother a quick text, one that’s saying just enough for him not to be (too) worried but not so that he’ll come running to the museum the second he reads it. They had no idea what to expect, since the House of Art doesn’t have a permanent collection on display, but the exhibition they get to see turns out to be far from boring. It’s modern art from the 1980s; there’s not a piece or artist Mila knows or has even heard of, but it’s all very colorful and Sara seems to like it, so that’s okay. Trying to find which abstract painting looks the most like any of their fellow skaters is the best, most fun part of the whole experience – especially since it makes Sara laugh every single time, and her laugh must be one of the most beautiful sounds Mila has ever heard.

They leave the museum about an hour later, none of them having suggested they catch up with Emil and Michele, and Mila secretly hoping they’ll have some more time to themselves. It’s really fun, being just the two of them. They barely have time to step out of the museum before the Russian skater feels a drop of rain wetting her hair, though. An annoyed look almost makes it to her face – except Sara is quick to take an umbrella out of her bag and open it for the both of them to take shelter under, and that makes Mila’s irritation vanish instantly.

“… How can you be so well-prepared?” Mila lets out, honestly impressed.

“I’m just used to checking the weather when we’re abroad.”

Mila almost asks who she means by we, but it’s obvious – she and her brother.

“You really never stop mothering him, huh,” she comments in a snide tone. “Do you pack his luggage, too?”

“To be fair, he does carry my bags.”

Their eyes meet, making them both laugh – and when Mila offers to hold the umbrella, ‘cause I’m sure you miss your personal knight in shining armor, Sara gladly takes up the offer.

Between Europeans and Worlds is usually a rather uneventful period: no major competitions but a lot of practice, practice and practice again, and definitely no time at all to keep in touch with friends other than by liking their Instagram pictures. So it comes as a surprise, really, when Mila flies to Switzerland for an exhibition in Lausanne and discovers Sara’s been invited to perform here as well. A very, very pleasant surprise. Especially since it turns out Michele isn’t among the participating skaters, and his and Sara’s coach fervently refused he skipped practice to escort his sister to the neighboring country. Okay, that sounds kind of mean – but really, it means this is the first time Mila can spend some time with Sara without having to worry about upsetting her over-protective brother. Besides, although she knows how much her friend loves her twin… Sara needs her own space, and she looks so much more beaut- happier. She looks happier when she’s allowed to be the grown, independent woman she is. Right.

“Have you ever been in Geneva?”

Mila blinks and looks up from her dessert. It’s the night after the last day of the exhibition and they’re both tired from performing two days in a row, but they agreed to have dinner together nonetheless. Though expensive (it is Switzerland, after all), their meal has been amazing so far, but at some point Mila started reflecting on today’s events and Sara’s programs, and she got kind of side-tracked.

“Uh…” she says, uninspired. Sara was telling her something about having a day off soon, wasn’t she? In the end, the Italian skater decides to have mercy on her, thankfully.

“I’m talking about tomorrow,” she laughs. “I mean, since neither of us is leaving until Monday… maybe we could go to Geneva tomorrow? We could take the boat.”

Right, tomorrow is a Sunday, which means they can go sightseeing and relax however they want. And Sara is suggesting they do just that – together. That sounds like a wonderful idea, in Mila’s opinion.

So on the following day they wake up at the same time, each in their own room, and they leave the hotel right before nine. The walk to the harbor is short and nice, then they’re on the deck of the boat and the cool February wind is playing with the long, black hair Sara didn’t see fit to tie up. Luckily, it’s a sunny day; with the water bright and beautiful, it’s a landscape you can’t get tired of watching. For the entire trip they talk or take pictures, the best of which Mila uploads to Instagram, and it isn’t that long until they can see Geneva in the distance. They agree on taking a walk along the harborside when they disembark; this way it only takes them about twenty minutes to get to the main tourist attraction of the city, which isn’t really a landmark but rather… some kind of enormous fountain.

“Well, here we are,” Mila says. “The… Jet d’Eau…?” she tries, uncertain of how you’re supposed to pronounce it.

Her accent makes Sara smile. “I think the t is silent.” She’s probably right.

Since the Jet d’Eau isn’t a building, it can’t really be visited, but there’s a stone jetty thanks to which it can be reached. It looks narrow and slippery, though, so Mila waits until she’s seen a handful of other tourists come back safely before venturing on it on her own, Sara following close behind. It’s no long walk – they’re under the fountain in three minutes, and they don’t stay for more than two but that’s enough for some droplets of water to reach their hair and faces.

“Be careful,” Sara warns as they’re about to climb down the stairs that separate the jetty and the harborside. She extends her hand and Mila grabs it without thinking, quietly accepting the other woman’s help.

“Thank you,” she says. She almost asks Sara what kind of moisturizer she’s using, because her skin does not only look flawless but it’s incredibly smooth too; their fingers brush gently as they let go of each other, though, and Mila forgets about it.

Around noon, they start looking for a restaurant to grab something to eat, then opt to simply go window-shopping in the streets near the harborside so that they don’t get lost. They don’t buy anything until they manage to find a boutique that’s definitely intended for tourists, with Swiss flags everywhere on the main window and a stand displaying kitschy postcards on the front. It’s surprising it took them so long to find one, Mila remarks; Sara suggests they go have a look inside to celebrate the discovery, and that’s how they end up looking at, well, the always incredible yet never really surprising amount of heterogeneous objects you’re bound to find in these kinds of shops.

“Why don’t you get a gift for your brother while we’re here?” Mila asks in a teasing tone.

Sara seems to be thinking for a second. “Hm… I don’t know if there’s anything he’d like,” she finally says, all the while giving a mug with a big edelweiss on the handle a suspicious look.

Mila is smirking by now. “It’s better if he doesn’t like it! He’ll be overjoyed no matter what you give him, right? Besides, if it’s from you…”

She only has to wait two seconds until Sara understands and a glimmer of mischief lights up her purple eyes. “He will definitely use it, even if it’s the ugliest thing on earth,” she completes, grinning, and Mila’s smile instantly matches hers. She loves it when they’re on the same page like that. And since they’re almost always on the same page – she just really, really loves it when she’s with Sara.

(In the end, they agree on a plush cow keychain that practically screams I’m a kitschy souvenir, complete with the Swiss flag on the back and a bell on the front. Michele puts it on his skating bag – and Sara still has trouble not bursting into laughter when they talk about it on the phone a whole month later.)

Worlds can’t come fast enough, after that. Mila can’t fall asleep the night before she’s meant to take a plane to Helsinki. It’s been a long time since excitement has kept her awake like that, but she can’t help it – she just can’t wait to finally try and snag that gold medal, and she just can’t wait to see Sara again. When it became like that, she has no idea; but the truth is, she misses Sara. She misses her smile and her laugh and her hand on Mila’s arm, just like she misses travelling, taking pictures, sightseeing with her. And Mila’s never even been that much into discovering new places in the first place. Besides, it’s barely been a month and a half since Geneva, and they’ve phoned or skyped more than once since then too-

But Wednesday comes eventually – and for half a second when their eyes meet, right before she smiles her usual sweet, sweet smile, Sara looks just as relieved to see Mila as Mila feels to see her. They both stay calm though, neither showing anything more than what could pass as adrenaline-induced pre-competition excitement. They exchange a few words, perhaps, promising to cheer on the other during her short program later on, and that’s it; as cheerful as Sara’s smile can be sometimes, as snide as Mila’s comments can get on some days, right now they can’t afford to think of anything but their performances. And that’s okay. Because Mila comes out in second place, Sara in fourth, and on Wednesday evening they end up in Sara’s hotel room, sprawled over her bed, all eyes focused on the maps and addresses Mila printed out and the travel guide Sara brought.

“There’s just so many things to see around here,” Mila says, almost whining.

“And so little time on our hands…” Sara completes as she lays her head against the headboard and takes a pillow on her lap. “There’s a ferry going from Helsinki to Tallinn. We could be there in three hours…”

Mila looks up from her map of the Helsinki city centre.

“The Old Town of Tallinn is on the UNESCO World Heritage list,” Sara answers the other skater’s silent question.

“Oh. I thought people only went there for the cheap alcohol.”

Now it’s Sara’s turn to turn quiet all of a sudden. Mila blinks; three entire seconds pass until she finally understands.

“Oh my god,” she says, barely containing her laughter. “That comment just sounded very Russian, didn’t it?”

Sara bursts into a pure, sweet, adorable laugh. Mila’s thought about this before but- her laugh definitely is the most beautiful sound she’s ever heard, isn’t it?

“If you mean, according to the worst clichés in the universe… then yes, it did.”

Not just her laugh, by the way. Her face, too, her eyes, her hair, her tan hands on the white pillow, her long legs on the bed sheets, her mouth – there’s nothing about Sara Mila doesn’t find absolutely stunning. And right there, right then, there’s something special. There’s something special about the way they’re talking, the way they’re planning trips they could go on and thinking of time they could spend together – something that makes Mila want to never, ever leave the intimacy of this room, the warmth of this bed.

She’s no idiot – she knows it’s love. It’s just a bit frightening to realize how much stronger it is than anything she’s ever felt for any of the multiple hockey players she’s dated.

So Mila is in love. It’s no big deal, really. Don’t listen to whatever Yuri might tell you; she’s loved people before. Still, it’s rarely ever been this… painful. The longing, now that Worlds are over and she is back in Russia and Sara is back in Italy. She can stand it, obviously (unlike a certain skater she knows –but whose name she won’t mention, that’s how nice she is– who won’t stop looking like a kicked puppy the second his boyfriend leaves), but it still hurts. Not too much, it’s just… a kind of pain that won’t go away, no matter for how long she talks to Sara on the phone, and just gets worse every time they hang up.

So when Sara suggests over Skype that she could come and spend a whole weekend in Russia with her, Mila has trouble refraining from smiling; and she definitely can’t deny the warmth spreading in her chest.

The morning Sara is meant to arrive, she takes extra care making sure she looks even better than she usually does, with her makeup and hair and clothes on point, and she gets at the airport half an hour early just in case. Sara’s plane lands on time; Mila welcomes her with a smile and a cup of her favorite coffee, which Sara looks very thankful for. The flight’s been okay, but still long and tiring, she explains – “I can’t wait to go sightseeing with you, though.” She said it without a second thought, probably, but Mila’s heart still flutters all the same. Maybe she’s imagining things, too, but she can’t help feeling like Sara is… comfortable with her, at least? It’s in the way she walks so close to Mila that sometimes their elbows touch, the way she tilts her head once they’re sitting in the bus leaving the airport and doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest by how she brushes Mila’s shoulder in the process; and later the way she doesn’t hesitate a second before taking her arm to drag her to the landmarks she’s so eager to visit, too-

Mila nervously brushes a strand of red hair away from her face. She knows she shouldn’t get her hopes up – Sara is just being friendly, that’s all. Probably.

“By the way, don’t you think it’s funny?” she asks out of the blue, arms crossed, if only because she doesn’t have enough time with Sara here to miss on opportunities to make the best of their time together. “We’re both professional skaters, yet we’ve never been skating just for fun together…”

Sara seems deep in thought for a second. “You’re right… With how many times we’ve seen each other, you’d think we would have gone at least once, but all we ever do is go sightseeing.”

“Uh, I wasn’t complaining. I like sightseeing,” Mila says. With you, she almost adds; because she’s pretty sure it wouldn’t be nearly as fun if she was with, say, Viktor or Georgi instead.

“I do, too,” Sara answers calmly. “But it’d be nice to do something different for once… How about we go right now?”

“To the rink?”

Mila can’t believe what she’s hearing. The only reason why she mentioned going ice skating together is because the idea briefly crossed her mind, but she never thought… she never even wanted… Uh, well. Maybe she’s wanted to do something else than just visit places with Sara for a while, but anything (having dinner, going to the cinema, whatever) would have been fine. Besides, it’s not like any of them has brought her skates with her today- But Sara just smiles, unfazed, and Mila finds herself unable to say no.

That’s how they end up in Mila’s home rink during public hours, something Mila has never done by herself, both of them wearing (crappy, if Mila has anything to say about them) rental skates and trying to navigate in the middle of the crowd.

“What are you supposed to do at a rink when you can’t even practice your jumps?” Mila groans after barely crashing with an inexperienced fourth-grader for the third time in a row. Sara, who skated to the side to avoid the child, scoots back closer, giggling.

“Mickey and I used to play tag all the time when we were kids,” she explains, smiling fondly at the memory. “Or we’d just...” Her fingers brush against Mila’s and Mila lets her grab her hand, too surprised to react. “… hold hands and skate around the rink. This way, everyone thought Mickey was my boyfriend, and I wouldn’t get teased.” Her grip on Mila’s hand gets stronger as she speeds up, turns around and starts going backwards, now facing Mila; she extends her second hand and Mila takes it as well.

“Can you believe Mickey wanted us to compete as a pair when we first started skating?”

She punctuates her question with a light, delicious chuckle, but Mila is too busy snickering to be amazed. “Nooo, I absolutely cannot believe that!” she blatantly lies. “Seriously, I’ve always wondered how he hadn’t managed to get you to pair skate with him somehow. You told him no, didn’t you?”

“Surprisingly, no,” Sara laughs. “He dropped me once. Then he would no longer lift me because he was too scared he’d hurt me again.”

Mila’s smile falters a little. “That’s… kinda sad, actually.”

“But we’re better off this way.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a few seconds of silence, after that, during which they’re just content skating together, with their hands warm in each other’s; until Mila suddenly looks up and groans. “Seriously, though? You can’t weigh more than Yuri, and I can lift him super easily!”

Sara’s eyes light up with interest. “You can?”

“Uh… yeah?”

The Italian skater doesn’t wait for a more elaborated answer. A smirk making its way to her pretty lips, she lets go of Mila’s hands to place both of hers on Mila’s shoulders – and they’re really close suddenly, but… all right. If that’s what Sara wants, Mila will give it to her. Swiftly, she places both hands on her waist; the next second she’s lifting her, spinning her around, and when Sara’s skates meet the ice again her eyes are the most intense purple Mila has ever seen. She remains silent for a while, lost in those eyes. She vaguely hears Sara speak, but doesn’t pay attention to what she’s saying – because she’s beautiful, and her smile is a happy one, and her hands have found Mila’s fingers again, and right know it’s all that matters.

Until Sara’s eyes widen a little. “Mila?”

“Mm? What did you, err…”

Mila blinks, and Sara’s gaze softens. “I was saying pair that pair skating looks rather fun, after all… with you.” She waits a second before she continues. “Actually… Don’t get me wrong, I love Mickey, and I love spending time with him. But everything we’ve done together up till now has been so much more fun.”

“Sara, I…” Mila bites her bottom lip. She feels the same way; and she feels so much more, too, so much that it’s almost overwhelming right now. Her fingers, wrapped around Sara’s hands, are the only things she can focus on besides her racing heart, and all she wants to do is pull Sara closer and, uh, kiss her or something. “… I love being with you, too,” is all she manages to blurt out.

Then she thinks – scratch that. If she’s meant to have her heart broken, then the sooner the better; besides, with the way Sara is looking at her right now, maybe… just maybe…

“Actually, I… may love y-”

Two lips pressing against hers prevent her from finishing her sentence. They’re gone as quickly as they came – but when Mila lowers her gaze, confused, she is greeted Sara’s sweetest, most stunning smile.

“Let’s take a trip together this summer,” she says. “And the next, too. There are so many places I want to see with you.”

Mila thinks about it for a second – she may not be into sightseeing that much, but Rome, or Paris, New York, Tokyo, with Sara…

“Alright,” she smiles. All of that sounds like the best idea ever.